


Someone

by Black_Dawn



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Character Watching "Maurice", M/M, My Canon, Mycroft can cook, Spider senses, it rains when it has to, my favourite topic, mycroft watches TV, the umbrella is not an umbrella
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:14:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25114474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Dawn/pseuds/Black_Dawn
Summary: Someone forgot his umbrella..
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 8
Kudos: 70





	Someone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CrushedRose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrushedRose/gifts).



> Written for CrushedRose's bithday. 
> 
> (My dear friend, I baked for you a chocolate cake and your editing has changed it into a wonderful Sacher Torte.)

Mycroft Holmes is hesitant. He has the evidence he should have to fire Anthea, or Mrs. Galloway his maid. Or both.

The fridge is full of groceries and even consist of home-made dishes. Again. It wasn’t acceptable. Those two together were worse than an enemy's army.

He will make a quick salad with a slice of fresh cheese for dinner. It won't be so bad. Besides, he can always spend tomorrow on the treadmill, it is a good compromise. Let no one say he, Mycroft Holmes, is not a good strategist.

He won't even pay attention to the fact that tomorrow is a Saturday, and he has nowhere to be, and nothing to attend. In short, he is alone without any plans. _Again._

With a soft huff he leaves the kitchen, the need to eat suddenly gone. No longer hungry. It is not like he is craving food anyhow...or who...

DI Gregory Lestrade sighes as he looks at the pile on his desk, the overwhelming idea, that all of this is nothing but a waste of time. Don't get him wrong, he loves his job, it is just... it is a one-way street most days. The job clearly didn't share the same sentiment. 

"Uggghhhh." He groans wiping his hand through his hair.

Where did it all go wrong?

This was supposed to be a new start, the 'Chief' running his own division. It is a proud position, one he spent years trying to achieve and now he is there... something is still _missing..._

Something or someone?

Leaning back, he makes sure no one is looking in as he twirls around in his office chair, halfway he stops. He frowns, his eyes narrow.

The chair in front of him is empty. Two hours ago, that chair had an occupant, a very important occupant. With long legs, slender legs, in a bespoke suit, with laser blue eyes and a clear “I-don’t-need-to tell- you-but-I-rule-Britain. ' engraved all over. Those eyes, it feels like it says so much, yet nothing at all, and it is infuriating to man who spent his life putting puzzles apart and together. 

The problem is, the space next to the chair _isn't_ empty. There is an object... an inconspicuous but still dramatically important object. 

A black umbrella.

He looks towards the pile on his desk, nothing life altering that can't be dealt with on Monday. He eyes the umbrella again. Making his mind up he switches everything off, grabs his coat and the umbrella. There is no way he can leave this here until Monday, anyone of the cleaning staff or night shift staff can come in and use it or take it. From Sherlock's descriptions, this is no ordinary umbrella, oh no, this is 'lethal weapon’ that could put James Bond to shame.

Which means...

He must take the _007 original prop_ back to the man it belongs to.

Walking with the object he tries to figure out how the owner missed it? How did Greg missed it when he left? Oh yeah...the suit... the legs... he is bad man. But Mycroft? He didn't have the problem Greg had, so how did he miss it? Is it problems at work? Family?

He can only speculate.

Once in the car look at the weapon again, a desire to strap it in with the safety belt comes to mind, but he shakes it away. If it comes out...

He should call Mycroft and tell him he has the object; he will take it home.

What if Mycroft _needs_ it? What if he left it on purpose? To achieve what? Is it a sign? A silent cry for help? Should he be _worried?_

Without an answer to any of his questions he finds himself driving to Pall Mall. 

The house seems fine.

Dark and quiet with only one light but that's normal right? He might be in the living room or the office...

Parking some distance away he decides the best course of action is to make his way on foot.

Which would be perfect until he steps out of the car, straight into a sudden downpour of rain.

He has an umbrella, but he had no idea if it is just an umbrella or disguised as an umbrella.

Taking a brisk walk, he makes his way to the house, once inside the yard he walks up to the door.

He looks down at himself, soaked through.

_Fuck !!!_

What a brilliant first impression!

Of all the impressions, this one was very low on his _non-existent list._

But he can't turn back now. He has come too far.

With his entire detective senses or 'Spidey senses' activated, he rang the doorbell.

The sound of thunder jolts Mycroft from his thoughts, his stomach rumbles loudly in retaliation and Mycroft purses his lips, he might as well have that salad. It is looking more appealing. Standing up, he makes his way to the kitchen and switches the telly on. As he opens the fridge the doorbell rings.

Frowning he looks at the clock against the wall before turning to the CCTV display.

_What?_

DI Lestrade, Gregory.

Why would he...

Mycroft rush to the front door and opens it.

"Detec... Gregory! What on earth...Did something happened? Is Sherlock okay?"

"Nononono he is fine... I think he is, he said something about experiments...”

Greg looks around and feel like hitting himself. 

Of course, _nothing is wrong_ , of course he over analysed everything and came to the wrong conclusion. He helds out the umbrella.

"You forgot this at my office today."

Mycroft looks at the umbrella before he turns back at Greg, taking the item with confusions. 

"And you faced the Great Flood to bring it, without using it? I appreciate it, nonetheless.”

Greg felt ridiculous and stupid. There was no danger and at least Mycroft didn't mock him for it. Did he honestly thought Mycroft would need _his help_ , when he has the whole MI-whatever behind him? 

"Gregory..." Mycroft says bringing a stop to Greg's spiral thoughts.

"Yeah, sorry."

"Please come in, I don't want you to catch a cold here on my threshold."

"Thanks, it didn’t rain when I left, just when I got out of the car." Greg answers and steps inside.

"Are you sure though, I don't want to ruin your carpet?"

"It's fine, I'm planning on changing it anyway." Mycroft replies and locks the door behind them. 

"Come, follow me, you can use the shower and I have a set of spare clothes while we place yours in the dryer."

"Will you have a set of clothes that would fit me, you are much, well trimmer than me, unlike me...I'm shorter and I think the kind term is 'stout'."

"Don't be ridiculous, you are fine, very well built and I will have clothes in your size, don't worry, come on..."

Greg follows Mycroft up the stairs. Mycroft glance over his shoulder.

"Why didn't you use the umbrella?"

"Well, uhm...Sherlock once mentioned it is a weapon, and I have no idea how to use it, and wouldn't like to die before my time."

Mycroft rolled his eyes, he and his brother will certainly have a conversation, soon.

"My brother should learn to keep his nose out of things that don't concern him, still, thank you, for bringing it up. Here you go."

Greg follows Mycroft to the guest bathroom and his eyes widens; it is spectacular.

"I'm sure you will find everything to your liking, am I right in assuming you didn't had dinner? Once done would you be so kind to have something to eat with me downstairs?"

Greg smiles broadly.

"Yeah...please...that sounds great, thank you!"

Greg runs his hand through his hair the wet spikes sparkling in the light. Mycroft can feel his knees weakening.

"Well, I'll be in the kitchen."

With one look glace Mycroft left Greg in his shower.

Greg watch Mycroft's retreating back before closing the door, undressing and putting his clothes on the heated towel rack.

The shower is warm and so relaxing, the body wash more luxurious than the hotel he once stayed in a couple years ago.

The best, he is _naked,_ in Mycroft's shower, in Mycroft's home. Another long-buried fantasy.

As promised Mycroft left him a comfortable set of close that fits him perfectly. A tracksuit and a soft white t-shirt. His underwear is still on the rack, halfway dry, the others...well, he will just need a plastic bag for those. Maybe an hour or so and he will be ready to go.

Following the light and the sound of the telly, Greg makes his way downstairs to the kitchen. Mycroft is there, his back to Greg, so he leans against the door frame, folding his arms watching him work. Mycroft is wearing casual clothes and Greg finds it incredibly sexy. His shoulders are so broad, but it looks...soft...comfortable, not over towering. His hips well formed, his butt... he is no Michelangelo, but he can see the form in front of him is _granite material._

_Stoop!!!_

He needs another shower, a cold one.

Instead he focuses more on his surroundings, the kitchen is well formed, state of the art, but not homely... there is not a presence of well spent evenings and laughter.

Mycroft is making dinner and Greg can hear him softly whispering, he tries to make it out... Is he...? Greg recognized it immediately.

_“Happy Birthday Sir!” the young guy on the screen said to the blonde one._

_The blonde guy bent his head towards the younger, but he didn’t’ say a word._

Mycroft shake his head murmuring “Say thank you, idiot!“

_He is..._

Smiling Greg clears his throat, revealing his presence.

Mycroft turned around.

"Oh, Gregory, hope you are feeling much better - and see, told you they would fit, here want some wine?"

Mycroft asks and Greg nods, watching him pouring two glasses of clear and crisp white wine.

"Yeah, you were right."

Mycroft just smiles in response and points to the table.

"Please sit down. Dinner is ready, we can sit here, if you don't mind."

"Oh no, this is perfect thank you."

Greg replies and help Mycroft to set the table, it isn't anything fancy, but it is welcomed, and much appreciated.

They chat pleasantly during dinner, making small talk about any and everything. Once done, Greg helps with cleaning up as Mycroft put everything in the dishwasher. 

With their glasses refilled they turn their attention back to the telly.

_The blonde guy had left his window opened and went back to bed and the younger went upstairs and followed him._

Greg’s eyes go wide “ Maurice . 1987 , I can’t forget this movie. “

“Neither can I." Mycroft replies.

"It has been a revelation for me at the time it came out, I was still young and quite unsure of myself and this helped a lot. Plus, the actor who played Alec Scudder, clearly made the revelation quite...clear. I found him very attractive, those eyes, it is a soulful brown, so full of depth, kind of like yours, if I may say so."

Greg blushes and looks down before looking up.

"Thank you, and you may, as long as it is from you, not the wine. To be honest, I know where you are coming from, the movie has been a milestone for me as well. I found it a great comfort to understand who I was attracted to, that it didn’t depend on the gender, but the person, you know? Attraction is much more than just labels like gender."

Mycroft tiltes his eyes, staring at Greg.

"Are you bisexual, Gregory?"

_Is he? He - is_

Greg blushes again.

"Yeah, If I had to _label_ it. I had both relationship with men and women in my youth, but I married a woman, which we all know, turned out so well, just ask Sherlock..." Greg jokes before he goes on.

"You see, I wasn't straight enough, ironic that being 'bi' is a turn on and so 'cool' when you're young, but once married.... Anyway, I prefer the other actor, the blonde one, tall, long legs... blue eyes....

Like a speeding train, Mycroft's brain offers the exact description of what Greg is saying, the realizing causing his mouth to dry.

Greg fees like an idiot. He said too much. _Bloody wine!_

Greg jumps up.

"Well, it's late, and I have taken more than enough of your time, I should get going. Thank you for your hospitality and dinner, I can clearly say, that was the best chicken salad I ever had. I should go, thank you again."

Mycroft, in a moment of stupidity or clarity, unsure himself turns to the telly before looking back at Greg, standing up slowly and hoping he isn't going to ruin everything.

"It was not a bother at all, you don't bother me, you never do, and I must admit, I enjoyed the time we spend together as well, and I was hoping, if you don't have any plans tomorrow, would you like to stay, watch the whole movie to the end?"

"Really?"

"Absolutely, plus I can introduce you to a very well stocked cabinet with an assorted range of drinks?”

Greg focuses on Mycroft, he is sure, a full hundred percent, that something changed the moment he admitted his preferences, the 'tall and legs and blue eyes' gave him away, and may have an open admission of interest, and apparently Mycroft is interested. If this is destiny or fate giving him a chance, giving him a moment to grab onto, he will dare not waste it.

As the movie say.

_Now we shan't never be parted._

"I’d love to Mycroft."

_It's finished._

*** *** ***

The movie : “Maurice “ directed by James Ivory in 1987 ( you can watch it on YouTube)

Starring: James Wilby – Maurice

Hugh Grant – Clive

Rupert Graves – Alec

The book : "Maurice" . written in 1914 by E.M. Forster– published in 1971

The New Yorker, in a retrospective on the film in 2017, stated, _"...For many gay men coming of age in the eighties and nineties, 'Maurice' was revelatory: a first glimpse, onscreen or anywhere, of what love between men could look like". Director James Ivory said, "So many people have come up to me since 'Maurice' and pulled me aside and said, 'I just want you to know you changed my life_.”

Source: Wikipedia


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